Out of Pain
by fataldelivery
Summary: Deep down inside I'm never okay. I cry of pain everyday. Deep inside, my heart begins to ache. Each day as my body slowly breaks. A Parvati Oneshot. Credit to Hurt by Nine Inch Nails for lyrics.


DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my imagination.

_I'll draw you a picture,_

_I'll draw it with a twist,_

_I'll draw it with a razorblade,_

_I'll draw it on my wrist._

_And if I draw it correctly,_

_A red fountain will appear..._

_To wash away my sorrows,_

_To chase away my fears._

Her eyes were closed, although it really didn't matter. The thick blankets were pulled over her head, drowning out the outside world and turning it to black. She could hear their voices from downstairs, calling her. Parvati knew she could only ignore them for so long. Daring to open her eyes, she pushed off the covers and checked her wrist. The bleeding had stopped, leaving yet another red mark. Her skin was tainted, it would never have the same smooth feeling as it once did. She could conceal the marks with a few charms, but that did not remove them completely.

"Oi! Parvati, we need to speak with you," Hetal Patil called up the stairs. Parvati reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. She covered her wrists with a sweater, pampering the scars with such soft fabric. Surveying the room and placing all incriminating evidence in her wooden jewelry box, she headed downstairs. The door was shut tight, a manner allowing others to know that trespassing would be punishable by a verbal spat.

"Honestly, Amil, that girl spends more time alone in her room than anything. She's not reading like her sister either." Once again comparing their daughters, Amil and Hetal Patil firmly believed that the more intelligent a young woman, the more possible matches for her in the future.

"Sit down, Parvati. We have an issue we need to discuss," Amil stood up, showing both power and dignity in his stature. Parvati took a seat, wondering what part of her life they wanted to change now.

"You are almost seventeen, Parvati, nearing the age where a respectable woman should be engaged. We believe that we have found a match for you." Her father looked at her sternly, he didn't believe that his daughter would oppose a match that her parents had found for her.

"I already told you, I don't want an arranged marriage." Parvati believed that she should have power over her own love life. She didn't want her parents to make the choice, lest she be married to a complete bore. Her parents opinion of a 'good match' was a wealthy, Indian man, secure in all ways. They still didn't know that Parvati had dated many young men from Hogwarts, none of them being Indian. An Indian woman was expected to stay a virgin until marriage, a feat that Parvati had dismissed before her 5th year started. However, in her parents' eyes, she was still innocent and inexperienced.

Hetal sat beside Parvati, placing her arm around her daughter's shoulders. Parvati quickly shrugged her mother off of her, desperately wanting to leave this conversation. "Vati, dear, Sucha Nagra is a fine young man. He's already admired politically across Wizard India; and he's only 24."

"Mum, I want a chance to do what I wish, before getting married and being expected to pop out a few kids."

"Parvati Kali Patil, do not be defiant towards your mother!" She hated it when her father yelled. It was a triggering voice, which she did not need.

"Can you at least wait until I'm done at Hogwarts before you set me up with some wealthy Indian?" Parvati slouched back in her seat, desperately hoping to end the debate.

"Ay, it does seem sensible, to let her get her schooling done," Hetal turned toward her husband, "Will Sucha mind waiting? She only has a year left."

"It will be fine," Amil stated. He sipped his drink, his daughter would make a fine wife, if she grounded herself. "Until then, don't be seeing any young men; you wouldn't want to taint your reputation." Parvati almost laughed out loud, her father was, of course, referring to her virginity.

"Don't worry Dad," Parvati lied. Her parents barely knew anything about her, most of it they never would and wouldn't wish to. She stood, finally able to leave the room obediently.

Curiousity overcame her. "Who's Padma's match?"

"Padma needn't worry about finding a husband for quite a few more years, she'll go far by herself," Amil told his daughter, once again preferring one twin to the other.

Parvati left the room, grabbed her coat and slammed the front door behind her. She didn't know where she was going, besides away. Hands in her pockets, she continued along the sidewalk. Tears escaped her dark eyes, over no control of her own. The streets were empty, everyone was home with their families. Christmas was the next day, and soon children would be ripping in their presents. She thought it ironic, and also perhaps morbid, that while some would be opening their Christmas presents, others would be opening their wrists.

Upon reaching the corner store, she entered. She didn't need to buy anything, nor did she have any money. Living in Muggle London was always a difference from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. She was surprised at the temperature in the store. While outside was cold, it was winter after all, the store seemed to be situated on the Equator.

A few of the stores' customers glanced at her oddly. She was dressed in Muggle clothes, so she assumed it was her expression. She wiped the tears from her face and continued to browse. It was too hot in the store and Parvati desperately wanted to roll up her sleeves. She quickly decided against it. The gashes on her arms were in straight lines, glaringly obvious to anyone who "went through that phase already" that she clearly didn't fall down any stairs to get those scabbed-over little trenches. Instead, she exited the store, stepping into a sheet of rain.

Rain seemed strange for winter, but all Parvati knew was that she was now soaked with cold rain on a cold day. She didn't want to head home, but home was warm and the store didn't seem inviting. She ran down the street, her hair now clinging wet to her face. Once approaching the house, she noticed through the window that her parents were no longer in the living room. A party was scheduled for later that night, and Amil usually took his wife out to dinner before. Parvati wasn't sure where Padma was, she hadn't seen much of her since break let out.

She stood in the door, just looking at her reflection in the glass—a somewhat short, dark skinned, dark haired witch with no emotions, only tears all over her face. She quickly jumped back to reality so she could find her house key to get out of the rain.

Parvati headed upstairs automatically and into her room. In one fast movement, she fell onto her bed. "Fuck! Why does this always fucking happen to me?" she screamed, shoving her head into her pillow.

She noticed her jewellry box out of the corner of her eye, remembering what she had stashed in there. It was silver and rectangular and had gotten her through a lot, at least she thought it had. Parvati slowly pushed herself off the bed and reached towards it. She lifted the lid off the top of the box slowly to find what she was looking for. It seemed to be calling her, telling her it was the only way to stop the pain. She picked the blade up with caution, careful not to slice her fingers.

Parvati returned to the bed where she once sat. She hated herself for doing this. She pulled back her sleeve, revealing her scarred wrist. She watched the razor glistening in the light, and then turned back to her wrist. She had done this so many times before, so it didn't seem like that big of a deal. She knew it never helped, and she always felt awful afterwards, but she couldn't help it.

_I hurt myself today_

_To see if I still feel_

_I focus on the pain_

_The only thing that's real_

_The needle tears a hole_

_The old familiar sting_

_Try to kill it all away_

_But I remember everything_


End file.
